Having left hospital myself and getting the train straight to London to take over care of my son after surgery I remain more positive. Sleep still evades me at night and calls me during the day. Anxiety is still causing isolation. After 7 months of constant suicidal thought they have been gone several days now. I'm still hurting. I'm angry and hurt to still be 'exiled' by my friend. I don't know if that will ever go away completely. My husband and I are talking more, he's definitely being more sensitive. Perhaps we can both see an end to the tunnel of the past few months.
Our boy is getting better every day thankfully. Our house remains a bit of a bomb site with it having been abandoned in a rush and both of us feeling pretty exhausted by the worry and trauma of the past couple of weeks.
Pretty much exactly 5 months after my last church attendance I returned today. Since my last time I had only seen 3 people from the congregation face to face. People who live in my town. Who I've seen at least twice a week for years, I'd seen so few of them. Children had grown. Newborn babies now starting to move. Barely bumps now earth side. There were a few new faces too. We decided to go today because we had been invited for Sunday lunch by a couple from church. The sweet, kind hearted, godly doctor who was on duty the weekend I was first taken to hospital. I didn't give myself a choice this morning. I'd set up an excuse not to go for lunch already. Our car was broken. It was true, it was, but I knew it would be fixed in time to go. So I got up and we went. I'd spoken with my counsellor about not feeling it was my home any longer. That I wasn't part of the fellowship anymore. That physically I didn't know where to sit. Our usual seats, middle,front, with ...
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